


not what he seems

by sweetchems



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Catholicism, Demons, Implied Relationships, Magic, Priests, Religion, Some weird junk, horror but like light horror yknow, nothing happens in this i just rated it T cuz its darker than my G rated stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetchems/pseuds/sweetchems
Summary: Frank is a good person.
Relationships: implied Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Kudos: 36





	not what he seems

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! this is a prompt my gf gave me! the prompt was "catholic!frank/not what he seems" so of course i wanted frank to be be good boy who's something evil in disguise :>

Frank is a good person.

Frank goes to church every Sunday, he helps out with the youth group. He's a straight A student- at the local Catholic school of course, it's the best in town for  _ many _ a reason-, he's college-bound.

Frank is a good person.

Frank goes to confessional every Sunday, and he confesses to the tiniest, most mundane things. Lying to get out of seeing a friend because he needed to get things done, thinking lustful thoughts about a girl at school. Little tiny sins.

Frank is a good person.

Frank walks down the street after school on a Friday afternoon. He walks to the church, with its tall, steep rooves, and the sign out front laden in old, peeling changeable letters, reading some half-missing jumbles of what should be the church's bible verse for the week. Designed to jump out at passers-by, frighten them into coming to church.

Frank walks slowly and quietly through the halls and into the chapel itself, his footsteps light, almost  _ floating _ . The grand, almost absurd depiction of Christ on the cross watches him from behind the pulpit. Busying himself with something at said pulpit is the church's very  _ dearly _ beloved priest.

"Father?" He calls out into the big, open room. The strong acoustics make his voice ring out, high and strong and youthful throughout the room.

Father Way stands up straight when he's spoken to. He has these wild, easily spooked, deer-in-headlights kind of hazel eyes, and his pink lips are parted on a surprised breath. His dark hair- he dyes it black, Frank is certain of it- is crazed and messy around his face, and his skin is as milky white as the clerical collar he wears, prominent on his throat. He's so  _ young _ , baby-faced and so fragile for a small-town priest. The man before him was an elderly man, very priestly, and Father Way is anything but. He's almost  _ ethereal _ .

A sort of twisted expression between mortification and kindness makes its way onto his face at the sight of Frank, standing near one of the pews. " _ Oh _ ," He gasps in surprise. "Oh, Lord…." 

Frank nearly giggles aloud at how this grown man grips the pulpit with white knuckled terror at the sight of him. A skinny, weak little 18 year old boy. "Father, what's wrong?" He asks innocently. His smile is a flicker of razor sharp teeth, and he swears he hears Father Way whimper something, a jumbled curse that didn't even sound like English. "I'm sorry I frightened you, really, I am," He calls, his tone overwhelmingly thick with false innocence. God, this little schoolboy act makes him want to  _ gag _ .

" _ Why are you here again, Frank _ ?" Father Way forces out, his voice strangled and nervous, but as brave as he could get it to come out, even as Frank's features change before his eyes, his completely unsuspecting cover melting away. Really, it's a pretty subtle glamor, makes him look a little younger than he chooses to appear normally- late teens versus mid-early twenties-, hides the red of his eyes and the points of his canines. Just a few small things that fit him into the role he wants to play. His clothes shift after the removal of the charm too, uniform replaced by something more casual, but still sharp. Darker. A small but noticeable smattering of tattoos form on his skin, redrawing themselves easily. His personal glamor is nothing special, but the ones that make up his life as a human,  _ those _ he's terribly proud of. They're nothing but lies and magic, but damn good lies and magic.

It's something straight out of a bad horror movie. But Frank has to give it to himself, no one's suspected the innocent,  _ perfect _ little Catholic boy to be the devil in disguise.

And even if they expect it, they don't expect him to be going right for the soul of their dear Father.

Frank walks forward, coming to meet him, hands coming up to cup Father Way's face in his hands, trace the soft contours of his jawline. "Now,  _ Gerard _ ," He murmurs, lips curling into a smirk. "I think you need to change your wording if you want me to even  _ start _ to give you my time of day."

"I-I- I'm-" Gerard stammers, his eyes large with alarm. "I'm sorry- I just, I-isn't this dangerous? Won't we get caught…?"

Frank's hand slip down to his waist, then to his hips, pinning them sharply to the pulpit. Gasping sharply, Gerard looks down at him with wide eyes. 

"Oh,  _ sweetheart _ ," Frank murmurs, his eyes sparkling, glowing red like two angry coals. "Like that's ever held you back before…."

And Gerard knows it.

He's  _ gone _ .

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr and give me dark prompts @/ourangeloftrash


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